Most men can live in one place, but some cannot..... I'm one who cannot, but I do..... because I love one who can. But she loves to fly away with me, over the nap of the earth, on our Great White Wing. We go out for me, and we come back for her. It's called compromise; it' called a true Glasserian Conflict (see below); it's called love.

Speed is my narcotic, my balm, my warm scented oil...... with the throttle pegged, and the front wheel spinning, flying, carrying me faster and further than I am designed to go, I escape, for a moment, the consciousness of my weakness and fragility, my vulnerability, my temporariness...... For a shining, speeding moment, I forget my death. I forget my mortality. I forget my insignificance. By confronting death with my absurd helmet, my gloves, my throttle -- I vanquish it. But only for a shining, speeding moment.... Only for a shining, speeding moment.... And that's what our lives amount to, really, in the Grand Scheme...... a shining, speeding moment.


(Glasserian True Conflict: loving, valuing, wanting two things at once that conflict, in this case.... freedom and Red)